CinderLuna
by Izaranna
Summary: A prophecy is made and Luna is determined to help fulfil it to the best of her abilities, even if she has to throw the damn glass slipper in the Prince's face. Starring Ron as Prince Charming, Hermione as 'evil' stepsister, Ginny as a decidedly confused Fairy Godmother and Harry as an ambiguous henchman substitute. Also featuring radish earrings and Queen Bellatrix. NOT Ron/Luna
1. The Weasley Ball and the King of the Sky

**CinderLuna**

 **Summary: "I'm not quite sure I understand you Luna," began Hermione, "I'm marrying the prince?" "Yes. It's alright though, the nargles know you'll like him." said the eponymous heroine of this wonky adaptation of an age old tale.**

* * *

Pale white locks, tangled and curled, were loosely pulled back into a bun as the heroine of this tale swept the foyer, or at least tried to. She kept getting distracted by the nargles you see, who were celebrating their golden jubilee. She had yet to discover the specifics, but that was alright because most things are better left to the imagination. They were dancing around her, chattering in their low keening voices and beckoning her to their realm.

But Luna Lovegood, daughter of Rook Manor, was not so easily swayed. You see, she knew she had a destiny, a destiny so profound that it would reshape the Golden Kingdom and change her realm as others perceived it. Of course, the metaphysical one would not be affected too much, but then it rarely ever was so Luna was content with that.

While her hair was as pale as milk and her eyes as blue as aquamarine, Luna Lovegood would never be considered a conventional beauty no matter how graceful her manners, petite her figure or unblemished her skin might have been. Her stepsister had told her on various occasions that it was because of her queer fascination with the creatures for some reason only she could see and her permanently startled expression.

"Not to mention," Hermione sniffed primly, "your inability to concentrate on something sensible for more than six seconds."

Luna thought she was being too generous; she hadn't managed even three seconds no matter how hard her close-minded stepsister tried. But that was alright, Luna reasoned, she'd rather be called strange than chain herself with societal conventions. Gently breaking out of her thoughts, the white-haired maiden continued sweeping. She had been at it for a good four hours, and her charming stepmother was at her wits end trying to decipher the ancient tome that her daughter had loaned her in a vague attempt to get her to discuss it with her.

Lady Granger was astonishingly fond of her daughter and enjoyed discussing issues of current debate and exchanging gossip. Hermione, brilliant and vivacious, was the apple of her mothers' eye. However, sometimes Lady Granger, beautiful herself even in her advancing age, with rich wavy hair with chestnut highlights and doe-brown eyes that her daughter inherited, just couldn't understand her daughter.

Miss Hermione Granger was a very politically active person, who strove for the betterment of society, and sometimes went to extreme lengths to accomplish it even when those she was liberating clearly didn't want it.

Her mother was tasked with looking for loopholes in the servitude laws, promising her daughter that she would try to liberate the slaves indentured to a manor, commonly known as house elves, even though she had never given two thoughts to them. She wanted only what was best for her daughter, and if that meant squinting at faded lettering and perusing the dictionary far too often for her liking to even make sense of the text, then so be it.

The large grandfather clock chimed the alphabet song loudly in the parlour, signalling the seventh hours' commencement to the three ladies and sixty servants of the most opulent manor west of the Weasley Palace.

Luna looked up at the song and smiled wistfully, remembering her eccentric father warmly. She had a happy life, even though her stepsister nagged her constantly and her stepmother more often than not punished her by doing all sorts of chores around the house whenever she acted unladylike. Considering one of the first things her father had taught her was to never conform to expectations, she wondered at her stepmothers' steadfast belief that hard work would eventually sort her stepdaughters' eccentricities. But sometimes Luna terribly missed her parents, even more than words could properly describe.

She made her way into the tourmaline-carved manor, the roof carefully designed to appear like a rook on a chessboard, hence the name Rook Manor. Luna was set to inherit all her fathers' fortune, although she didn't mind sharing with her stepsister. _After all_ , Luna thought as she absentmindedly scrubbed her hands clean for dinner, _it isn't as though she's a bad person, simply close-minded._

Walking into the strangely decorated dining room, the crescent-shaped windows wide open and the garish sickle-shaped wind chimes decorating its edges chiming merrily, Luna waited for her stepfamily patiently. Merely a minute later, Lady Granger marched in with her black crepe gown flowing dreamily behind her, heels clacking against the magenta stone slabs paving the floor as she muttered under her breath about something or the other. Around her head, the nargles slowly became mesmerised with her chaotic thoughts and began siphoning it away.

"No, you mustn't." Luna reprimanded them, and the nargles sheepishly retreated. Her words broke her stepmother out of her spell and the Lady's gaze fell upon her stepdaughter.

It's not as though Lady Granger was purposely cruel to Luna. In fact, she went out of her way to raise her to be a proper lady but Luna was beyond hope. Lady Granger had married into wealth, her previous husband being a modest apothecary that had died of the flu five winters ago, so she always maintained that manual labour was character building. Luna did nothing to disabuse her of this notion, content to let it play out just as her stepmother wanted it to. After all, it wasn't as though there was much longer till their destinies kept them apart, and really, Luna quite liked the woman who tried so hard to do what was best for everyone involved.

It really was a shame that both Luna and Hermione were of the exceptionally intelligent variety, if in completely different fields, and Lady Granger just couldn't keep up. Seating herself at the head of the crocodile-skinned table (with hooves for table legs), both women, one in her late fifties and the other nearly attaining twenty, silently waited for the third member of their lopsided family.

"Did you not think to change your clothes before coming to dinner Luna?" Lady Granger snapped irritably, noticing Luna's dirt-smudged smock and torn leggings. "Honestly, you would think, looking at you dressed like that, that you possessed no presentable clothes at all!"

Luna blinked at her unaccusingly and said "I was hungry stepmother, so I rushed to have something to eat."

"God give me strength to deal with you!" said Lady Granger bitterly. "You sound as though we never feed you at all! It would have taken you but ten minutes to change and look presentable, if that, and besides, you were supposed to take only an hour to sweep the foyer anyway. What were you doing outside?"

It was at that statement that Miss Hermione Jean Granger, daughter of an apothecarian and stepsister to the Lady Lovegood of Rook Manor, briskly walked into the room and politely curtsied to Luna and her mother.

Gracefully taking her seat and huffing a sigh, she told her in a tone of long-suffering acceptance, "This is Luna we're talking about mother. We must simply be grateful that she managed _anything_ in only four hours."

Smiling to herself, quite pleased with the compliment paid to her, the ladies turned their attention to the sumptuous spread wafting delightful scents into the air, beckoning them. Eating their fill, Luna chewing on each bite thoughtfully and Hermione wolfing down everything she could get her hands on without looking like a total barbarian—probably, Luna mused, she must have found a particularly interesting book and wanted to get back to it.

Meal concluded, the ladies stood up and withdrew to the parlour, Hermione immediately situating herself on the plush bright orange couch near the bookshelf and began reading a delightful rendition on the lesser known virtues of the founders of the Golden Kingdom; Lady Rowena of Ravenclaw Glen, Godric of Gryffindor Moor, Holy Helga of Hufflepuff Valley and Sir Salazar Slytherin of Fen. Lady Granger picked up her basket of yarn and sat herself down to knit the bright red scarf she was making for her daughter. Luna merely sat on the floor and watched both industrious women occupying themselves, studiously ignoring the topic that had been the talk of the whole Kingdom for a good fortnight.

She was fairly certain she'd been invited, but it would be nice to get some confirmation. She politely cleared her throat and said, "The Weasley Ball invitation has arrived?"

Hermione immediately stopped reading, her face flushing with red anger and her bushy brown hair frizzing even more than usual. "I'd rather die than attend a ball." She declared firmly before going back to her book, breathing a tad harsher than she had been before.

Lady Granger pursed her lips. "Why would you want to know Luna? It is not as if you're going."

Luna's already startled face became even more startled. "Why ever would you think that? I quite like balls. I very rarely get to enjoy the blibbering humdingers' chatter in this focussed atmosphere."

Both Grangers looked about ready to snap at this ludicrous statement. They were very familiar with what Luna meant by blibbering humdingers, considering she'd tried to educate them a few years ago on how they generally fed on half-baked ideas and lies, and as both the Grangers were very truthful and hardly ever had need to be reckless, Luna had informed them mildly disapprovingly, the blibbering humdingers just didn't visit as often as they should.

Taking a deep breath to regain her calm, Lady Granger tried to reason with her. "Luna, there is absolutely no way for you to go to the ball, even if Prince Ronald himself came to collect you. You're hardly presentable for a stable boy, let alone royalty. And besides," she said firmly, "you know how we feel about balls."

Luna did. The late Mr Granger had been called to the palace to heal the Queen of the Realm, Molly, and had been taken poorly there. Even though he had urged her to cancel the engagement ball being held for her eldest son, the Queen had refused, stating that things must go on. Half the guests had been bedridden by the third day of the festivities, and Mr Granger in his sleep-deprived state, took care of several of them. The burden became too much and he succumbed to the illness himself, perishing soon afterwards.

She had felt really sorry for him when she'd heard the story, and thought that sometimes even the kindest people can do stupid and cruel things, even when they didn't mean it. Queen Molly had been terribly sorry about the whole affair, but what had happened had happened.

As it stood, the Grangers needed to go to the ball, no matter what emotional trauma stopped them. Luna knew it was their destiny—the sylian cockasmur had told her so—so he had to get them to go. She wasn't particularly fussed about herself, there would be other balls after all, but this was the ball that Prince Ronald chose his bride and Fate had decided that her stepsister would be it. It didn't matter to Fate that they had never met each other and that Hermione didn't have the highest opinion of the youngest son or that the prince really wouldn't care much for her obsession with books or her buckteeth. All mortals got over such hang ups in due time she was sure.

"The nargles infestation has made you confused stepmother. I only asked whether I had gotten an invitation." Then she added as nonchalantly as anything, "After all, the royal family would only invite nobles. I suspect that you wouldn't be on the guest list."

Lady Granger puffed up in indignation as Hermione abruptly shut her book and glared at Luna's indifferently pleasant expression lividly. "Excuse me?" said Lady Granger. "Did you just accuse us of being beneath you?"

"Oh no." Said Luna. "But if you don't attend, doesn't that imply you don't think yourself worthy of being a noble?"

Casually getting up and walking out of the room, her job done, Luna allowed herself a small smile. Hermione was smart but her pride would get the better of her and she'd go. Lady Granger was very touchy about her position in society and even if Hermione realised in time that they'd been had, Lady Granger would have already told the entire county that she was attending the ball and then her pride would be on the line.

 _It pays to be underestimated_ , thought Luna.

* * *

Prince Ronald, the youngest of Her Majesty Queen Molly, felt that the next few weeks would be the dullest he'd ever have to experience. Brushing his bright scarlet hair out of his blue eyes, he scanned his opulent bedroom thoroughly, as if expecting someone to be hiding in a shadowed corner, before pulling out a small glowing, pulsating lapis lazuli orb. The thing couldn't be larger than his thumb nail and for that he was grateful—any larger and his brothers, Crown Prince Frederick and Second-in-line Prince George would have stolen it from him by now, or at least hidden it away so that he would never find it.

Ronald, or as he preferred to be called, Ron had precious few things that his five other brothers didn't have, and this little orb was one of the only things that he wasn't willing to share with them. Or rather, he corrected himself, the creature inside it.

Rubbing the orb carefully in a seemingly random pattern caused it to glow brighter and stronger, until a faint screaming sound could be heard. Luckily the walls were made of solid stone or someone might have heard. The orb in his hand melted, began expanding and took on the form of a fifteen year old boy with black messy hair, impossibly green eyes and large shimmering golden wings attached to his back. His piercing gaze swept over the room before he turned his attention to Ron, who was smiling at him a little less happily than he usually did.

"What's wrong Ron?" asked the innocent boy with timeless eyes.

Ron huffed in frustration, his smile falling off his face. "I called you out to make me forget, not immediately remind me Harry."

Harry grinned at his only friend, curious as to what could be causing the normally cheerful man to act like Armageddon had been announced before he could finish his breakfast. "As your highness pleases. What can I do for you today?"

Ron fell back onto his bed and groaned. "Oh alright, you don't have to do _that_. Queen Mum has decided that she can't leave well enough alone and has decided that I have to get married within two months' time or calamity will fall on the Kingdom. That old dodgy bloke with the annoying twinkly eyes seemed to think so anyway, and you know how much mum believes anything he says."

Harry seemed to ponder this for a bit before saying exactly what his friend didn't want to hear. "Wizard Dumbledore generally knows what he's talking about Ron. I mean, remember back when you were eleven—"

"Yeah Harry," Ron snapped irritably, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I remember. But that doesn't mean he's always right."

When Ron had been eleven and utterly friendless, when his oldest brother had abdicated the throne and been banished from the Golden Kingdom until Queen Molly had missed him too much and then reinstated him as one of Crown Prince Charles' advisors, before Charlie had abdicated as well, followed by Percy, the old Wizard had given him the little orb.

His blue eyes had twinkled, looking like little pieces of the morning sky, and he'd told Ron that he had to ask for something he wanted more than anything else and the Sky Nymph inside would grant it for him.

He'd asked for a friend and out came Harry, King of the Sky, and they'd been best friends ever since. Of course, Harry hadn't been the King at the time because Dumbledore had only just saved him from the evil Druids of Privet Forest, the Dursleys. They'd taken him at birth and, pretending they'd saved him from the mad wizard who had made it his life's mission to eradicate the Nymphs so that nature would be controlled by him alone, they treated him like a house elf.

Harry had always been supremely grateful to Dumbledore ever since, and no matter how many times the old Wizard did anything questionable, Harry would always have faith in him, telling Ron that he must have had a reason for it. Ron had come to realise a long time ago that asking Harry to look at Dumbledore objectively was an exercise in futility.

It sometimes felt that everyone around him worshipped the ground the Old Wizard walked upon, and while Ron felt that maybe he was exaggerating just a tad, he still felt it was justified because he was the reason Ron would now have to get married at all costs, or Queen Mum would make his life miserable, guilt-tripping him at every turn and making him question the validity of his existence.

Harry scrunched his eyebrows a bit before smiling mischievously. "No, that's true. But isn't it better like this?"

Ron looked at him through a squint. "How do you mean?"

"Well," said Harry in a mock-considering way. "At least you won't moon after that brunette you saw in the market oh, say, three years ago."

Ron blushed a shade as bright red as his hair, his ears darkening and threatening to smoke from the embarrassment. "There's nothing wrong with a bit of healthy admiration!" Ron retorted hotly.

"Of course not." Harry soothed. "It's just pathetic."

Ron lunged for Harry, who had flapped his wings to quickly manoeuvre out of the way, laughing at Ron's angry expression all the while. Harry had been teasing the youngest prince about the rosy-cheeked brunette that he'd seen in the marketplace when he'd snuck out in a fit of rebellion, who had not only yelled at him for his inconsideration when he accidently smashed a crate of eggs in a stall and didn't apologise for it, huffing angrily and chastising him like a child.

Ron, being unused to such straightforwardness, had snapped right back, saying the man ought to have seen him coming. She'd looked about ready to hit him then and they had gotten into a fierce argument, which ended when someone had called the royal guards and he'd been taken into custody. He was promptly released after they'd verified his identity and Her Majesty had been utterly furious with him for weeks.

Ron had tried futilely to forget the vivacious woman who had called him a dunderheaded numbnut and other less polite things, screamed at him in _such_ a way, her mud-coloured eyes glittering with a threatening gleam and surprising sensuality that kept him up at night, her breath huffing and chest heaving and face coloured divinely from the exertion.

Even three years later, that maiden was all he could think of, the one he dreamed about meeting in all sorts of clandestine fashions, and Harry would just not let it go.

"Can you not be an utter prick? I've got enough brothers that do a brilliant job of that thanks." Ron said gruffly. Harry continued to grin but nodded his head semi-contritely.

When Ron had once again flopped onto his bed, Harry began humming thoughtfully. "Hey Ron," he said with a sense of dawning realisation. "Do you think she'll be at the ball?"

"Not a chance." Ron flatly countered. "She was a peasant girl. Mum's only inviting nobles."

"Oh." Harry deflated. "Well, I suppose you're going to have to find someone comparable at least. It is true you know."

Ron sat up abruptly. "You mean the kingdom actually _is_ doomed if I don't get married in a month?" he bit out in sheer panic.

Harry nodded gravely. "Well, it isn't quite so serious. The truth is," Harry reassured him. "the four Kingdoms have uncovered a Prophecy, half of which has already come true."

Harry then looked away, and if Ron wouldn't have been so eager to hear the words, he might have noticed that as a tell that Harry was about to tell him a bit of a lie. "I don't know all the details myself," he then looked back at Ron, "but apparently the Prophecy mentioned 'the Youngest Scarlet's bride', and it could really only mean you Ron. Your bride I mean."

His mouth gaped open, Ron tried to comprehend this bit of information. After a few seconds though, he composed himself as he was royalty and as a prince, he must never show exactly how utterly confused he was.

"You don't need to worry about it though." Harry said with a small smile that somehow put Ron at ease. "They just set a deadline of two months because they know how slow you are, not because it's imperative you find one now."

It took a minute to process the insult, but as soon as he had, Ron yelled in rage and flung himself at Harry again, who hadn't moved away quickly enough and had been tackled to the ground, his wings dispersing in a puff of air else they be crumpled beneath him.

"Oof! Ron!"

"Take that your Kingship!"

He began tickling the Sky Nymph with fervour, and Harry laughed madly.

Elsewhere, where the earth was a richer brown than other places, where the skylarks did not tread and the Water Nymphs visited once a year, a great oak tree shed a single leaf which floated down gently onto the face of a sleeping girl.

Her vivid red hair gleaming in the setting sun, skin pale and freckled and chest lightly rising and falling as she slumbered with her head cradled in her arms, the Fairy Thrall waited to be summoned to the Golden Kingdom by the Lady of Rook Manor.

* * *

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	2. Kittymort and Queen Bellatrix

**'A royal ball? I suppose it would be awfully dull and boring.' - Cinderella**

 **'A royal ball? Perish the thought.' - Remus Lupin**

 **'A royal ball? Do they have cake?' - Peter Pettigrew**

 **'A royal ball? I don't believe in parties that involve poofy dresses and waltzing. Where's the booze?' - Sirius Black**

 **'A royal ball? And I wasn't invited? Down with the Monarchy!' - James Potter**

 _ **Who's your favourite princess? Leave your answer in a review!**_

* * *

Luna was of the firm opinion that Hermione was going about purchasing gowns and finery for the five-day ball completely the wrong way. Her obvious commoner roots were showing as she picked only the most sensible footwear and the most practical bonnets and stockings, not even bothering to stock up on frills, ribbons and fine silk like pretty much _everyone else_ was going to deck themselves out in.

Luna felt she was doing her stepsister a great service by dumping as many colourful pieces of fabric, glittering and bejewelled, into her basket. Hermione was of the opinion that Luna had no sense of fashion and should mind her own business. Of course, Luna didn't agree but sometimes there just wasn't any hope for some people.

It was on this little outing that they bumped into a Sky Nymph with a square jaw and a fierce scowl, his eyebrows slashing starkly on his face and his eyes lighting with interest at seeing the young Lady Hermione. His glowing dark red wings fanned his hair lazily as he awkwardly walked to the pair of stepsisters. Most Sky Nymphs barely ever walked, so his odd gait was acceptable. Around his neck was a bold golden tie with a wreath of different feathers decorating it, the mark of a Sky Guardian, Protector of the Sky Dwellers.

Luna was not quite alright with this, but if Fate thought it was the way to go, she had no objections.

"May I enquire as to vat your name is?" he said gruffly. Hermione was startled by this but didn't let it show. No one had really shown much interest in her before her mother married Earl Lovegood, and ever since then the attention just scared her. There was this one time an Earth Druid named Zacharias Smith tried to ask her a basic question (something about her mothers' hair and the wigs' inability to hide her bald patch) and she'd run away screaming bloody murder, trying to threaten him with a bunny slipper and a pair of tweezers that Luna had helpfully handed her.

It was a bit awkward after that.

"Lady Hermione Granger. And you are?" she said imperiously, trying and failing to sound naturally condescending as befitting her station. She just came off as sounding like she was trying too hard. Apparently the Sky Nymph was into this kind of thing.

"Viktor Krum of Zephyr. Vat are you buying?"

Clearly, Hermione thought, this Nymph was as straightforward as could be, borderline rude in fact. It was a nice change from the tedious politicking that had become her way of life these last few years. She favoured him with a smile and politely informed him that she was out shopping for the, gulp and twitch and wince, the Weasley Ball.

Krum's eyes dimmed slightly but then he grunted amiably enough before expressing his hope to see her there and have her hand for a dance. She agreed, glad that she wouldn't have to sit on the sidelines like a complete buffoon the entire five days. He then took off with a powerful flap of his wings and, with the grace of a Sky Guardian, flew up and up until he disappeared from the Golden Kingdom and back home to Heaven's Gate, the dwelling of Sky Nymphs, Harpies, Phoenixes, Hippogryffs, Dragons and Skylarks.

The stepsisters watched his progress with wonder in Hermione's case and mild approval in Luna's. They continued meandering through the marketplace with Hermione distracted, half her mind on the Bold Sky Guardian and the other half, as was usual whenever she went to the market, on the scruffy redhead with little tact and the most expressive cornflower blue eyes she'd ever seen on a man that she'd met three years ago. She'd almost lost all hope of ever seeing him again but that didn't mean a little ember didn't brighten in her heart whenever she saw a mop of red hair in the crowd.

Luna waltzed in between the shopkeepers and stalls, the crowd seemingly non-existent with the way she simply flowed through them, picking and paying for all sorts of clothes and accessories that, had Hermione been paying the slightest bit of attention, would have been hurled back to the stands and she'd have gotten a tongue lashing for.

As it stood, Luna simply did as she pleased, as always.

* * *

Ron moodily marched around the garden with Harry looping around in the air around him with gleeful joy. His mother had sent Madam Malkin to his chambers so that he could try on the new robes in honour of the ball that would take place tonight to see if any needed last minute alterations… and they were all maroon.

Every single bloody one was that disgusting colour. Honestly, the Queen Mother was supposed to be a woman! How did she not _see_ how terribly it clashed with his hair? Now, Ron wasn't the vain sort. In fact, he was rarely ever bothered by what he wore.

But there was a very bold line drawn when it came to flowy maroon robes with lacy cuffs and a pink high collar.

Honestly, it wasn't like he was a peasant or anything and yet everyone insisted that that was all he was getting the allowance to buy and that that _monstrosity_ was actually the height of the latest fashion for men.

None of the rest of his brothers were wearing anything remotely as horrendous!

So he had taken one look at the clothes laid tastefully on his bed and bid a hasty retreat, summoning Harry as soon as he had reached the garden. The King of the Sky had assessed the risk of imminent explosion and had decided not to ask, but simply kept his best friend company as he brooded on the unfairness of lacy cuffs and fashion.

The preparations for the ball were going splendidly with narry a small hitch (okay, maybe a couple of bumps along the way, but it was alright. The guy in charge of allocating guest rooms had been fired instantly when he tried to put a Human family and a Vampire clan on the same floor. Honestly, the idiots that got hired.) and the hall was decked out in resplendent tassels, ribbons and paintings, smelled of thyme (simply because all the creatures of the four kingdoms had varying smell sensitivities and thyme was the only thing that didn't either irritate them or act as an aphrodisiac) and glowed with live Fairy lights kindly donated by the Fairy community.

The eight hundred year old chandelier had been lit sometime this morning and would continue doing so for the next five days and six nights, throwing a resplendent beam on the entire ballroom.

If only it wasn't all for the purpose of finding him a bride, Ron would have been far more excited by this.

"Do you think they're conspiring against me?" he asked suddenly.

Harry hovered closer to him with a smug little smirk on his face. "And who do you mean by 'they'?"

"The Fates, the Celestials, the Council, take your pick. They all hate me anyhow." Ron muttered irritably.

Harry's face softened for a second, looking as ancient as the rest of the ones who knew what was in store for the youngest Weasley. "Don't think like that. It'll all work out in the end. You'll see."

Ron huffed and then turned back to the castle. Confused, Harry asked him where he was going.

"I'm done sulking. I mean, I can just tell Malkin to take it back and dye it another colour."

Harry pretended to sniffle. "My little boy's growing up!"

"Shut up."

* * *

The red-haired child rose gently from her slumber and yawned mightily, feeling her bones crack and realign as she stood up for the first time in seventeen years. Looking around in wonder, Ginny the Fairy Thrall wondered why she'd awoken.

Gliding into the air with a lost look on her pretty little face, her hazel eyes wide with alert concentration and freckles adding to the innocent picture she made, Ginny traversed the acres of solid trees and underbrush to the heart of the woods where the Sovereign of the Elementals dwelled.

Of the four kingdoms, the Elemental Forest was the most diverse. Unlike the Golden Kingdom, they weren't one alpha species divided based on wealth nor, as opposed to Heaven's Gate, did they have flight in common. In fact, they had absolutely nothing in common at all.

Fairies and Water Nymphs were the most abundant, simply because they reproduced more, but the Earth Druids and Elves were fairly commonplace as well. The Sequitar Squirrels had recently been recognised as an intelligent species, the red Kapps, Hinkypunks, Ogres, Veelas, Leprechauns and Naiads all were a part of the Elemental Forest Empire.

The ruler of the Empire was Queen Bellatrix, the most powerful Mage and who had a direct blood link to at least six different subspecies and related through marriage to at least nine others. She was a light hand with torture spells and had no compunctions with about using her subjects as 'fun' experiments, her favourite being the Septennial Screamathon, where the record-breaking scream lasted six entire years.

So yes, when Ginny was voluntarily moving towards her lair, you knew she was confused. Alighting on the crags of Black Summit, the Fairy Thrall walked with a pronounced limp (caused by years of sleeping in the same position with no exercise whatsoever—she was living the dream really) towards the hollow cave hewn from decades of magic pouring out of the inhabitants. Bare feet thumping on the slick rock, her hair fluttering in the austere breeze, Ginny came face to face with the Sovereign of her Realm, Queen Bellatrix.

The dark skinned, dark eyed, dark haired, dark clothed, dark everything really Queen sat upon her excessively comfortable tree-throne, tapping her long fingers on the armrest with decided impatience. She required no guards for she was the most powerful of the Mages of the forest (and anyone stronger than her was swiftly dealt with; Frank and Alice of Confuzzled Crag came to mind.)

Next to her tree-throne stood a nervous looking boy with blond hair and shaded blue eyes, tightly clutching a cushion upon which sat a little kitten. It was white and fluffy and PURE EVIL!

Or so most people claimed. It had the unfortunate name of Voldemort, but most affectionately called it Dark Lord (some not so affectionately called it creepy miceophile, but we'll keep that to ourselves). It had bright red eyes and a forked tongue when it bothered to sneer at you, and yes, this cat could sneer like the best of them. Even his mistress, but many claimed Voldemort was the true master, couldn't beat him in the Acts Most Heinous department.

"It's about time you showed up you useless Thrall!" snapped the Dark Queen.

Ginny, too confused to snap back, simply stared at the Queen until she released a deep breath and pressed the bridge of her nose to calm herself.

"You were supposed to have awoken three days ago and now you have to work _overtime_ for the idiot human you've been Fated for! Honestly," Bellatrix griped. "What do I pay you for?"

The nervous looking boy spoke up with a surprisingly steady voice. "My Queen, you don't pay her anything anyway."

She turned towards her slave. "Shut up or I'll auction off your spleen to Severus! He's been dying to get his hands on it for years!"

Ginny spoke up as well. "Bit gruesome surely. Perhaps just a finger would suffice just as nicely." Her lips quirked at the Queen's expense, her heavy-lidded eyes twitching.

Flinging a Crucio at Ginny, who fell to the floor in painful convulsions, she snapped her fingers at her slave, who carefully placed Voldemorts' throne (fluffy cushion really) on the floor before running out a side door.

Taking a standing position again, painfully twitching from the torture spells' aftershock, Ginny silently glared at her Queen.

Ginny wasn't really a member of the Elemental Forest, having been born outside of it (specifically in the Golden Kingdom) to humans who had had a curse of some description placed on them that ensured that every female of that household would be born a fairy and be bound to the Sovereign in the most demeaning way possible.

Apparently, she was the first female of that house in seven generations. She had no idea who her parents were and quite frankly, it was better that way; she honestly wondered whether she wouldn't just turn them into fairy dust the minute she saw them. She was royally pissed off at them, but that was neither here nor there.

Queen Bellatrix graciously waited for her to gather herself before loudly declaring, "The Weasels are holding a ball. We all know what the stupid human contractor wants from you."

The slave, the chains around his wrists clanking, came running back into the room holding an ancient-looking box with crystals set into the tribal design decorating it. Ginny watched his progress to his station and then winced as he tripped over his tail and went sprawling onto the floor.

Even then, he managed not to damage the box overly much. Queen Bellatrix stood and took the box from him, sending a couple of crucios at him almost as an afterthought. "Honestly Neville, one-eyed ducklings are less clumsy than you."

She walked towards Ginny, leaving her slave twitching on the floor (but Ginny noticed that he recovered far more quickly than he had any right to.), she brandished the box at her.

Ginny looked at her questioningly, warily leaning away from the box that seemed to exude magic. The Dark Queen impatiently clicked her tongue. "Open it!"

She did as requested, and in it lay a small stone, shining with a milky purple glow and beckoning Ginny. She belonged to the stone and the stone belonged to her.

She reluctantly ripped her eyes away from it. "Is this my teleportation stone?"

"Yes, I'm glad _that_ concept has been explained to you." Bellatrix snarked.

A teleportation stone, as Ginny had been taught years ago before her Great Sleep, was keyed only to contracted Thralls and by touching one and saying their contractors name, the Thrall was immediately transported to their location.

Bonded for eternity, if her contractor released her from her duties, unlike every other Thrall who would truly be free, Ginny would still be bound to the Sovereign. However, she thought excitedly, she would get to see the Golden Kingdom and the rest of the Kingdoms if her contractor permitted. She loved travelling and most of her dreams had her flying far away from the Elemental Forest and all her chains, flying so far away that she couldn't smell the dank musk of the trees and the overpowering perfume of a million different flowers blooming every day. (there was no such thing as seasonal. The Naiads made sure of that.)

"Do I leave now?" Ginny asked with barely concealed excitement.

"No. You haven't been called yet. It'll glow brighter when you are idiot Thrall." The Dark Queen snapped.

Ginny didn't let her disappointment show as she let out an 'oh.'

Bellatrix shoved the box into her arms before grabbing her by the shoulders. "Remember Thrall," she narrowed her eyes at Ginny, "even if you're contracted to a human, you still belong to _me_. Do anything even remotely sappy and I _will_ punish you for making me look like I encourage stupidity of that nature."

She looked at Ginny meaningfully, and the Thrall felt like she was supposed to catch onto a message, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out what it was.

"So," she said. "No feeding puppies, no _lurving_ around, no friend-making, no hugging baby pandas and, especially, _no_ getting along with the stupid royals. Understand?"

Ginny nodded, already assuming that she wouldn't be out of her orb long enough to manage any of that anyway. But if she was, Ginny promised herself that he would do all of that just to spite her.

Bellatrix seemed content with this half-hearted agreement.

The stone in the box glowed bright enough to catch all three of their attentions. Neville, the boys' eyes steady, said "You'd best go now. You've been summoned Ginny."

And before she could voice her confusion over how he knew her name or wish him the best of luck because, oh the poor sod had to deal with batty Bellatrix _every single day_ , he said, "Your mistress's name is Luna, Lady Luna of Rook Manor."

And sounding out the name, Ginny disappeared with a pop.

Voldemort stretched and mewled from his fluffy cushion.

* * *

 _Read and review please!_


	3. A Fairy Godmother and a Sulking Prince

**"It looks awful!" said Merryweather, looking at the pink dress in disgust.**

 **"That's because it's on you dear." explained Flora.**

 **-Sleeping Beauty (Disney)**

* * *

At the very moment Lady Luna was contemplating the cloth slipper that she'd found in the storage room upstairs, Lady Hermione was contemplating mass genocide.

"Not in a million years Luna!" Hermione screeched.

Luna felt this was very unfair, especially considering that Hermione had not a clue as to why she was planning on wearing a blue skirt with pink tulle and brown streamers erupting from the belt. Paired with a bright green bodice with orange lace and white stars (and of course, her signature radish earrings) Luna thought herself quite the fetching vixen.

Hermione was being silly, she reasoned, because the peacock feather in her hair set off the entire ensemble quite nicely.

"I think it looks quite pretty actually." Luna argued with surprising heat.

Momentarily taken aback by the usually laidback girls' fire, Hermione felt slight regret when she told Luna that 'under no circumstances' would the mother-daughter pair be seen with Luna if she were dressed like that. Luna disdainfully eyed her stepsisters' earthy brown gown with white lace edgings. Would it kill her to be more exciting?

"My mother made this dress." Luna said defiantly.

"Yes, for the circus. Not for a royal ball, or any ball for that matter. Honestly Luna, you look like a rainbow vomited on you!"

"Don't be ridiculous Hermione. Rainbows do not vomit; they don't eat very much. And you can't very well vomit rain clouds and sunshine now can you?" Luna explained with an air of teaching complex political issues to a two year old.

Hermione felt it was in her best interests to simply lock Luna in a closet and never have to deal with her eccentricities ever again. Alas, that would be animal cruelty and she didn't condone that, so she needed to make do with punching the wall in frustration.

"Look Luna," Hermione said, trying to reason with the daft girl. "The dress may be your mothers', but it is hideous."

Now the problem with Hermione is that she rarely ever felt herself to be in the wrong, so when it came to sensitive issues, she handled them like a pro. But when it came to her stepsister, Hermione just couldn't seem to be tactful, because Luna defied all logic. She always spoke her mind with Luna, because sometimes she felt that Luna just didn't speak the common language.

Either that or she chose to ignore it, but Hermione honestly underestimated her. It wasn't her fault, it was just that Luna was...something else, to put it politely.

"My mother had an amazing eye for the prettiest dresses. She was the talk of the ton."

"Yes, because no one could stop laughing at her ridiculous outfits!"

Lady Granger walked into the room, drawn by the loud voices of her daughter and Luna arguing about the clothes they were to wear to the ball.

"What is all this commotion about?" she asked in annoyance.

"Mother, tell Luna she is not wearing that-that _monstrosity_ to the Prince's ball!" Hermione said, heaving a breath and trying to control her temper.

"I'll wear whatever I want and you can't stop me." Luna said defiantly, quite fed up with her stepsister. The peacock feather in her hair bobbed up and down in indignation.

Lady Granger took one proper look at the dress before promptly agreeing with her daughter's assessment.

"Luna, the ridicule we will suffer because of you!" said Lady Granger, her hands nervously fanning her. "No, if you can't pick something better then you're not to go."

And with that, Lady Granger stepped out before Luna made her lose her mind. Hermione felt slightly guilty for barring Luna from attending a ball that she had all the right to attend. Then she decided that all Luna had to do was tone it down to a respectable level and she'd be able to go anyway, so no harm done.

Little did she know that by five o'clock, when the carriage was waiting at the front steps, Luna would wear another hideous monstrosity worse than the last one, her radish earrings happily swaying to and fro.

Lady Granger, ostensibly, left her on the front porch.

Luna, not for the first time, missed her parents terribly. Luna, not for the first time, whimpered for her mother to hug it all better and for her father to just be there for her when she did something she knew others found outlandish but she herself found completely normal.

Luna, for the first time, ran to the fountain and cried her heart out.

* * *

Prince Ron pulled on his ridiculously high collar, trying in vain to breathe easily. He felt like a stuffed chicken, and Crown Prince Frederick had charitably informed him that he looked like one too. Huffing in annoyance, he watched as yet another family entered the ballroom, his vantage point from the Royal Quad balcony (called so because the four rulers of the Four Kingdoms would sit there) affording him a brilliant view of the goings on.

The rich mingled with the rich, the richer mingled with the richer and the Heavenly mingled with the Heavenly. Never did those of Heaven's Gate mingle with the assumed plebeians of the Elemental Forest, content in the knowledge that they all sucked and they, thankfully, didn't.

Ron felt, as he always did, that that was wrong. King Harry felt so too.

During the reign of the evil Overlord Buckbeak III, all the divisions between Heaven's Gate and the other three kingdoms had been exacerbated, and while the short reign of King James had been more tolerant and minglesome, King Harry had a hard time trying to get the idiots on the Council to actually listen to him.

He was of the very non-confrontational sort and they walked all over him when it came to inequality. Everything else though, they listened to him without debate.

Why? Because he was a million times better than Cornelius 'giving idiots a bad name' Fudge, who had been elected (yes, _elected_ , and boy did the Council regret _that_ stupid decision) as regent while the lost Prince had been slaving away at Privet Forest.

Bored out of their minds and both decidedly flat-footed ducks on the dance floor, Ron and Harry tried playing a game of 'who did she murder this time?'

Every time a woman entered the ballroom, they would guess which outlandish crime she ostensibly must have committed and then pick the best one. It was all very fun because they both had over-active and decidedly retarded imaginations.

"You see the one with the grey hair in a bun?" Ron asked.

"You mean Councilwoman Minerva?" Harry identified. Minerva was his favourite on the Council; she was severe but fair.

"Yeah, the guy next to her. I reckon he watches little girls sleep." He pointed to a glittering Fairy. If Harry wasn't mistaken, that was Edward Cullen, but then his eyesight wasn't the best, so it literally could have been anyone.

"Mild. I'll bet he sneaks into the kitchens and eats all the mince pies. Then, at the dead of night, he rips open his stomach and takes them all out, one by one, and puts them all back on the shelf. Then, everyone eats his digestive juices, and he laughs at them evilly."

"...that's messed up mate."

Boredom destroys intelligent minds.

They looked to the entrance again, searching for their next prey, when _she_ walked in.

Her brown hair pulled back in a sensible bun, her lips painted a dark shade of red and her gown swishing around her, in stepped the most gorgeous specimen of female that Ron had ever seen.

Now there may have been some drool leaking, and the dazed look probably didn't help, but when Hermione glanced up on a whim and saw a red-haired man in puffy clothes and white tights, she thought he looked rather like a gormless mountain troll.

Harry could attest to the fact that Ron very nearly was.

Ron, before he even knew what he was doing, walked down the stairs in a daze, closer and closer to the most delectable woman his eyes had ever had the pleasure to feast upon.

…not that he was going to eat her or anything. There was a line that needed to be drawn there.

Alas, before he could get close enough to the maiden, a disgusting vile evil disreputable degenerate ruffian fancied himself buff enough to be within spitting distance of her. The nerve of some people!

Ron came to his admittedly nearly non-existent senses in the nick of time, or there might have been a nasty confrontation with a decidedly happy Sky Guardian. Huffing indignantly, he mumbled hushed threats in the Sky Guardians direction before bidding a hasty retreat back up to the balcony.

The fangirls had spotted him. Harry, King of the Sky, laughed cheerfully at his best friends plight.

"Absolutely pathetic Ron."

"Cheers."

* * *

Viktor had been languishing near the candelabra in the corner of the ballroom, gifted to the Weasley Dynasty roughly 300 years ago by some street peddler. It was very pretty. Then came in the girl he'd met in the marketplace and a smile finally graced his features.

Walking to her, he barely noticed the Anemone Folk making silly faces at his distraction or the Earth Druids in the corner making hushed remarks about him. Reaching Lady Hermione, he covered himself with his ruby-red wings as a sign of respect and graced her with a 'good evening my lady.'

The Four Kingdoms had very different customs; while one of the Golden Kingdom would bow or curtsy as their gender dictated, the Heavenly either folded their wings in front of them in the case of men (the amount of their face they covered depended on the rank of the individual being shown respect) or flared their wings in the case of females (who on average had prettier wings than the men). The Elementals had their own customs depending on their species but generally the light families shook hands and the Estranged, Magical, Ethereal and Supercilious did a really odd jig or nothing at all.

The Fourth Kingdom was another matter entirely.

Hermione, having a vague knowledge about customs, curtsied the best she could, having not had much practice doing so. "I'm glad I've found you sir. I'd feared I would be dreadfully alone tonight." she said, smiling.

"Viktor will do." He said gruffly, and Hermione felt just that much more comfortable with his lack of decorum. She never did well with politicking.

She smiled at him. "Of course."

Her mother had noticed her distraction and, trying in vain to find a body to converse with, Lady Granger asked almost-but-not-quite waspishly, "Well young sir, are you not going to ask my daughter to dance? I assure you she has practised very hard for today."

Flushing in embarrassed shame, she was very glad when Viktor simply extended an arm out for her to accept, looking a bit confused at her red face.

Trying very hard not to look like a lobster, Hermione attempted to smile before placing her hand in his.

They went to the centre of the ballroom where other couples had already begun dancing. Some were water-dancing, others were Wind Waltzing and still others had begun the Earth Smash (a very…forceful dance that only Earth Druids seemed to enjoy).

The Wind Waltzers were up in the air, bodies elegantly charting the simple yet complex dance with easy smiles on their faces. It was at times like these that Hermione wished she had wings.

She could understand why they thought they were better—they were the envy of every being in existence (barring the Fairies, who had been exiled several centuries prior in a tantrum of Buckbeak III where a Fairy had somehow messed up his afternoon tea—no one really knew the specifics, and quite frankly, none but the Fairies truly cared by that point. King Harry had tried to do _something_ to make up for it, but the only reply he got was a Howler screaming profanities at him in Old Latin. Luckily, hardly anyone understood it.).

Majority of history had the Heavenly triumphing in every war, the Feisty Four Way War being a particularly good example. They had earned their place as the alpha race of the Four Kingdoms.

And yet, Hermione thought as they joined the human couples and began a casual waltz, inequality wasn't truly necessary, even if it was supposedly earned.

Viktor wasn't the best dancer, his clumsiness on foot carrying over onto the dance floor, and as he stepped on her foot once more, Hermione winced. She already wished she was back home.

The ball had only just begun. Ron, watching the couple from the balcony with Harry smiling knowingly at him, sulked the night away.

…well, most of the night anyway.

* * *

Luna, after wiping away most of her tears and de-tangling her hair from the purple radishes adorning her ears, brushed her snakeskin bodice and cream tulle skirt to get rid of the dust.

Fixing the multi-coloured flowers sewn onto the tulle (that made it sag in the most bizarre places) so that they didn't look quite so weather-worn and adjusting the linoleum straps of her dress, Luna sighed with consternation.

"I haven't cried like that in years…What would father think of that?" Luna said to herself.

Having overcome her disappointment, Luna submerged a hand into a conveniently located bush, the leaves a distinctly evil red colour, and fished out a scuffed and blue glowing little pebble.

Unclasping the charm she'd attached to the simple silver chain around her neck, Luna attached the pebble to it with as much ease as it takes to attach a pebble with the ability to turn into anything whatsoever on a whim onto a silver string.

"Now, to let the plot progress." she muttered before singing, "Let the story unfold, let my time shine, let the Golden Kingdom prosper, let appear before me what is Mine!"

Her mother, ages and ages ago, had taught her that rhyme, telling her that if there was a ball held for the sixth prince of the realm, specifically for his betrothal, and she wasn't allowed to go, she must sing that little chant as loudly as possible.

Yes, the conditions were very specific, but Luna was never one to question her mother.

A radiant glow filled the courtyard, lighting the red leaves on the bush with an ethereal vibrancy. Luna had to shield her eyes from the light, spots of green appearing behind her eyelids.

Forming from the little glow that had emerged from the pebble around her neck was a girl, and as a moment passed, she went from a glowy white-blue humanoid figure to a dainty girl with a flowy fairy white dress and spring coloured wings.

Blinking a couple of times to adjust to the dim lighting after basically living in the pebble for a good two hours, Ginny spotted her Contractor.

At first, Ginny didn't quite know what to make of her. Years later, she would still not have a clue.

"Are you my Fairy Godmother?" Luna asked nonchalantly.

Ginny blinked before grinning at the girls' mild tone.

"Nope." She said, emphasising the 'p'. "Just your run-of-the-mill Fairy Thrall. You must be Lady Luna. It's nice to meet you."

As soon as she said it, Ginny internally winced. Queen Bellatrix would have had her hide for the casual address, but Ginny needed to know if her Contractor minded her speaking her own mind.

Not that her anger would stop Ginny from doing so anyway, it was just nice to know where she stood. Goodness knows she'd pushed every single button of Queen Bellatrix's that she could find.

But this waifish platinum blonde seemed, for a lack of a better word, alright.

"So you _are_ my Fairy Godmother." Luna said contentedly.

Choosing not to argue about such things (even though she was quite a few years younger than Lady Luna and could never in any way, shape or form have been appointed the girl's godmother, fairy or otherwise) Ginny instead focussed on the…interesting getup her Contractor was sporting.

"Nice slippers." she finally said. "Are they made of real dough?"

Luna beamed happily at the pleasant comment. After Hermione's harshness, something nice was welcome.

"Yes. There was a lot of dough but not everyone wanted bread. I thought this worked out quite nicely."

Ginny's lips quirked into a half-smile, amused by the matter-of-fact tone Luna had. Luna's face then fell and Ginny didn't quite understand what was bothering her all of a sudden.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned. Already she felt that she and Luna were going to be brilliant friends, and she knew instinctively that Luna was not one to frown but rather smile through life, no matter how many sheep-minded people she came across. It was just something about her that Ginny quite liked: Luna was a good person through and through.

"I need to go to the Weasley Ball."

"Then go." Ginny said, not understanding what the problem was.

"I don't think people would appreciate my taste in clothing." she said morosely.

"Who cares what they think?" Ginny said. The thing about Ginny was that she was very straightforward and outspoken, hardly ever feeling embarrassed or self-conscious. She was one of those lucky girls who had a high enough self-esteem that they were comfortable in their own skin, a rarity among any species. Very little bothered Ginny, besides her lack of freedom.

In that respect, she and Luna were rather similar. It takes a special kind of person to give literally zero fucks.

"I do. Well, not quite, but I'd rather not offend my stepsisters' sensibilities. She's integral to the Fate of the Kingdoms you see, and I don't want to cause her undue stress." Luna explained.

Ginny hummed, pretending she understood that.

"Well, we could always get you something less out there. It shouldn't be too difficult to find a happy medium between expressing yourself and not offending anyone." Ginny said, a reassuring smile on her face.

"I didn't think that was possible." said Luna.

Ginny got a look of determined confidence. "Anything's possible if you just believe it is."

Luna smiled for the first time that day. "Dreams do come true."

"What?" Ginny asked, confused.

"Nothing. Just irony really."

Choosing to once again ignore her Contractor, Ginny began analysing Luna's attire.

"You like bright coloured clothes." she finally said after a short pause.

Luna simply nodded, content to be scrutinised like a fascinating beetle specimen under a laboratory microscope. She rather liked her Fairy Godmother.

"And tulle. Also, contrasting colours. Bright, sharp…hmmm, innovative." Ginny mumbled to herself.

"What's your name?" Luna asked, interrupting Ginny's train of thought.

Brushing back her red hair, Ginny bowed gracefully. "Ginevra, my lady. But you can call my Ginny. Now, I think I've got an idea for what to make for you."

"Make it?"

Ginny nodded. "But, of course, as per the contract, you're going to have to wish me to do it."

Luna barely thought about it. "I wish it."

Ginny smiled. Bringing her hands up and placing them in such a way that made it look like she was holding an invisible ball, she whispered, "As you wish."

A glow formed in the space between her two hands, the bright green light swirling and pulsating. It rushed to Luna, encompassing her from head to foot.

Barely stirring and only mildly surprised, Luna watched as her clothes, though brilliant and beautiful, transformed into something that—

"It's perfect." Luna whispered in wonder. Her mother had a brilliant fashion sense, and it was very close to what she liked…but this was simply made for her.

Grinning, Ginny asked "I know right? And I think it marginally fits societal conventions, so you're good to go."

Luna gazed at the dress, smoothing the fabric with her hands carefully. "The ball will last five days."

"And I'll be with you for all five of them, and all the days after that Lady Luna. You don't need to worry about that." Ginny said firmly.

Twirling thrice, the dress flaring around her, Luna giggled happily.

"Oh!" Ginny said in dismay. "I forgot about the shoes, and the hair!"

Luna stopped twirling. "Well, I quite like flowers."

So Ginny wove green magic in her hands once more and Luna had a pair of golden glass slippers on her feet, a gold rose proudly emitting bright sparks from its centre decorating it. Her hair went from wild and tangled to a long braid with bright orange flowers twined in it. Wavy strands framed her face and her light blue eyes shimmered with happiness.

"I feel pretty."

"You are Luna, you are."

Luna looked around. "What about transport?"

Standing in the clearing, Ginny sent out green and pastel pink magic to the pumpkin patch, the mouse in the paddock, the large black dog lolling on the back porch, the proud stag grazing in the clearing and the wolf gazing at them from the forest. The pumpkin turned into a beautiful silver carriage lined with multi-coloured gems and flowers. Vines crept up the side and chained the wolf, rat, dog and stag to the carriage, each turning into a different coloured horse.

The stag was a deep chestnut-coloured mustang, the dog was a black Friesian horse, the wolf was a grey Falabella and the rat turned into a dirt-blond Shetland pony, in case you were interested.

"Well my lady. Time to go to the ball." Ginny smiled before helping Luna into the carriage, stuffing her dress into it without crushing it too badly.

Luna looked at Ginny. "Are you not going to change too?"

Ginny smiled. "Would you like me to?"

"I wish it."

Laughing at the cheekiness in Luna's voice, Ginny created yet another magic sphere and bathed herself in its glow. "As you wish."

* * *

"She's making friends, I know she is. That brat is ruining my reputation and it hasn't even been two hours!" Queen Bellatrix screamed.

Neville simply braced himself for the indubitably forthcoming crucios. He was, unfortunately, not disappointed.

Voldemort stopped playing with his pink ball of yarn to take a moment to ponder the distinct lack of evilness of his actions, but then decided to not give a fuck. After all, _he_ was the definition of evil, and not the other way around.

He could do whatever he pleased.

Conundrum thoroughly solved, he went back to playing with the ball of yarn.

* * *

 _Read and review please! What was your favourite scene? Favourite character? Favourite Kingdom? I quite like Kittymort._


	4. The Perfunctory and the Idolatry

**'They say that it is better to be poor and happy, rather than rich and miserable, but how about a compromise like moderately rich and just moody?' - Princess Diana**

* * *

After dancing for a good half hour, Hermione felt it most appropriate to quit while she was ahead. Excusing herself from the Sky Guardian, she went to the dimly lit corner under the Royal Quad Balcony and breathed in deeply, inhaling the light scent of thyme.

The chandelier cast a classy glow on the rest of the attendees and Hermione, being more the observer than the partier, enjoyed the scene immensely. Fanning herself lightly, she noticed a pair of cornflower blue eyes on her, staring at her with uncanny steadiness.

Feeling apprehensive and a little bit miffed, Hermione turned to hold the man's eyes herself, with the idea of glaring him into submission and demanding retribution.

Instead, all she turned to see was empty space.

Frowning, Hermione made to go back onto the dance floor, resigning herself to having her feet stepped on.

And then there was a bright flash of golden feathers, the air in front of her shimmering with an ebullient glow. Descending from the balcony was a teenage boy with messy hair and bright green eyes, a friendly smile on his face.

"Hello. I noticed you were standing here by yourself, so I thought I'd keep you company." said the boy, still smiling at her.

Hermione had never seen anyone quite like him. He _glowed_ —there was no better way to describe it. Some inner light seemed to shine from his skin, pouring out and putting people at ease. His eyes held an innocence and yet profound wisdom, his face young yet timeless. His wings shimmered and looked as if they were made of the purest gold, molten and lustrous. They were still and ethereal, framing his lean figure and making him seem even younger than he ostensibly was.

Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. The boy—although that was hardly an appropriate word for him—seemed to gain a sheepish look.

"Did I startle you? I've been trying to cut down on the number of heart attacks I cause. I see I'm failing miserably."

"No," Hermione said, regaining her voice. "You simply…overwhelmed me. And yes, the company would be nice."

He smiled at her. "I'd ask you to dance, but I'm even worse than your last partner."

Hermione felt she had to defend Viktor, who was really not at fault for not knowing the Golden Dance—he was of Heaven's Gate, he could hardly be expected to dance as she did.

"Viktor is a brilliant dancer." she said indignantly. "He's merely less adept at Human dancing. It is through no fault of his own."

"I assure you, I meant no offence. I just meant I'd step on your toes far more often than he did, with or without the same excuse." he said. Hermione had yet to decide what to make of him. He seemed nice enough, but there was just something about him that screamed ulterior motive.

"And who might you be?" she said in her best upper class tone.

Looking amused, the boy answered, "I'm Harry. And you are?"

"Lady Hermione Granger of Rook Manor."

"A pleasure I'm sure. And how long have you known Viktor?"

"You know Viktor?" asked Hermione suspiciously.

"I've known him long enough." said Harry simply. Hermione waited for him to elaborate further, but he did not. It was one of the most infuriating things Hermione had ever come across. She just couldn't seem to be able to get a good grasp of his character.

"I met him a couple of days ago, if you must know. I promised him my first dance." As soon as the words left Hermione's mouth, she knew she'd done it again; she'd given more information than required without any promise of receiving the same from him in return. It was her inability not to answer questions to the best of her ability that made her a terrible politicker.

Yet, she didn't feel as though the boy-man in front of her would make her regret her tongue. She didn't understand why, but she knew that whoever this Harry was (he hadn't even given a title when introducing himself, so he could literally be _anyone_ ), he wasn't bad, or anything remotely related to the more negative aspects of life. He, as mentioned before, _glowed_.

"I hope you had fun. Speaking frankly, Viktor's a really nice person and you seem to be too. He can come off as a bit unkind sometimes, and it's gotten him a lot of flak. I just wanted to ascertain that you weren't going to do anything hurtful to him, but I can see I needn't have worried." Harry said, smiling at her. Hermione felt that smile was worth the entire confusion he caused her.

Harry, meanwhile, inwardly grinned. Viktor was a great person, true, but Hermione was clearly not 'the one' for him. No, this girl was privileged enough to be blessed with both brains and a heart, and Viktor, bless the poor man, just wouldn't be able to handle everything that came with being her intended.

Ron definitely had his work cut out for him.

* * *

Prince Frederick, but he preferred to be called Fred (less pretentious that way), exchanged a look with his twin brother. Prince George then turned to watch their youngest brother stare longingly at the girl the King of the Sky was conversing with.

They smiled at each other deviously.

Let the games begin.

* * *

Luna had a nice pleasant conversation with her newly discovered fairy godmother, and she had to say that her mother had outdone herself when picking her. Ginny was of the opinion that she'd never met anyone quite as odd as her contractor. But in the end, what mattered was that Lady Luna looked hardly the type to stop her from doing whatever she pleased (she looked like she might encourage it actually). An excerpt of their conversation went thusly:

"And so the rainbows actually do have a steady supply of M&M's, but they only steal the pink ones because they don't have that colour themselves." finished Luna.

"And so the aphrodisiac you fed the rabbit made it steal pink M&M's for the rainbow." Ginny summarised.

"Yes."

"But why aphrodisiac? Surely that would have resulted in a nest of baby bunnies, not a rash of M&M stealing."

"Oh Ginny," Luna shook her head despondently. "the baby bunnies ate the other colours, and then they turned to stardust. Everyone knows that."

So of course, the amount of sense that made pleased everyone. Obviously.

The carriage came to an abrupt halt, and as Ginny peered through the window, she saw one of the most beautiful sights in the Golden Kingdom.

The Weasley Palace proudly stood on a shallow hill, with over a thousand candles and reams of fairy lights lighting up the exterior (the candles were magically enchanted to not blow out). The architecture could be considered haphazard and structurally unstable, but that was what made the Palace so special. The two girls took in the bronze statues in the luscious gardens, the perennial flowers wafting their perfume from the nearly-but-not-quite-overgrown flowerbeds, the earthy stone walls, the breath-taking towers and the glittering purple strip of carpet leading up to the entrance. Sounds of music, laughter and chatter could be heard even from this distance.

Ginny became unaccountably nervous, but Lady Luna simply breezed past, confident that she was going to have a brilliant time.

Almost flouncing all the way up the many, many, _many_ stairs leading to the ballroom, Luna barely needed to think about her gowns' many layers to prevent tripping over the fabrics—she was startlingly coordinated for someone of her disposition. Ginny, emboldened, fluttered her wings and followed a few paces behind.

Ginny had been envisioning their entrance for a long while, but what she didn't expect was for the music to stop, the entire congregation to halt their meanderings and the nobility to stop dancing mid-twirl.

Luna however, clearly noticed something she did not. She silently pointed to a mass of—what she'd initially presumed—livery and coats.

As luck would have it, when she had opened the grand doors, an aristocrat had been leaning against it and had collapsed below her feet. As she had been floating, she hadn't even noticed.

Instead of apologising, she started laughing, a touch hysterically.

The scorned noble threw her a dirty glare before blushing a bright red (even his ears!) and bent down to pick up—

Oh no, thought Ginny. That's a Prince's crown. What…have I done?

Abruptly cutting off her manic laughter, Ginny tried to help the Prince— _PRINCE—_ up, but he just brushed her hand away ungratefully.

"Go back to what you were doing, if you please! Nothing to see here." he said in an imperious voice loudly. The festivities slowly picked up before going back to full swing when they realised no other monarchical faux pas' were to occur.

"I'm _really_ sorry. I didn't mean to, honestly." said Ginny sincerely, almost desperately. But inwardly, she was seething. This was a rather rude monarch.

"Go annoy someone else." The red-haired man muttered angrily.

Luna decided to speak up. "That's not very nice. You should be kinder to your subjects, especially when they're not."

It seemed that the Prince had finally graced Luna with his attention after that confounding statement, for when he took in her attire, he simply gaped, mouth hanging open.

"Careful, or you may catch flies Your Highness." said a snooty voice. Ginny turned her head to the Heavenly male and Human female making their way to them.

The snooty voice belonged to the sensible looking woman, her brown hair looking painstakingly done-up and her gown uninspired. Ginny did not have the best first impression of her.

But it was the Heavenly beside her that truly caught her attention. His…his _wings_ , and his _eyes_ , and his—

Ginny suddenly seemed unable to function normally.

The Prince blushed a brighter shade of red. The Heavenly laughed cheerfully, and Ginny could have _cried_ with how perfectly delighted it sounded.

"Ron, no offense, but you look like a lobster."

Ginny came back to herself as both Luna and Miss Snooty exclaimed with completely different tones, " _You're_ Prince Ronald?"

Luna sounded curious and slightly mysterious, whereas Miss Snooty looked gobsmacked, and as though she regretted her brash words.

He must have mumbled something, for the Heavenly laughed once more, albeit with less intensity and more mischievousness.

"I would quite like to marry you." said Luna in a thoughtful voice, as though contemplating the meaning of life.

Prince Ron gaped like a guppy at Luna, and the rest of their little circle had varying degrees of shock and horror on their faces, Ginny included.

"Why would you—" began Miss Snooty, before she stopped.

Taking in the four layers of different shades of red fabrics draped artistically over a simple pastel orange gown (with a yellow waist and sleeves), the almost-white blonde hair and the permanently surprised expression, she exclaimed, horrified: "Luna?!"

"You two know each other?" asked the Heavenly politely.

"Yes, she's my stepsister." she said, as though regaining her composure.

"That is…quite interesting. And may I know your name, my lady?" he asked.

"If I may know yours." stated Luna.

"Harry, just Harry."

Ginny burst. "Harry, as in _the_ Harry? Sovereign of the Sky, the Chosen One, the Most Benevolent King of Heaven's Gate? _That Harry?_ "

Harry looked uncomfortable, but nodded nonetheless.

Ginny said, without thinking, "You make Bellatrix go _mental_. How can I ever repay you?"

Letting out a laugh, Harry seemed to relax and, realising what she'd said, Ginny tried to take it back with an unconvincing, "I was—merely jesting! I meant, that it is an honour to meet one of the Great Four."

"The honour is mine." he said, smiling at her with amusement and a hint of appreciative interest. "And may I know your name?"

"Ginny, my name is Ginny. Well, it's actually Ginevra, but _no one_ calls me that, so just Ginny." babbled Ginny, that smile making her insides melt and turning her brain to mush.

"And I'm Lady Luna of Rook Manor. But yes, I quite agree."

No one quite understood what Luna was agreeing to, but no one thought it wise to question it.

"And you are?" asked Ron, _very_ hesitantly and with quite a bit of forcefulness, as though he had been debating asking this question for a long time and had only just found the courage to ask it.

"Lady Hermione Granger, Your Grace." she pronounced, trying and failing to sound pure-bred.

As it was, she was dealing with the shock of realising that she'd been casually conversing with _the King of Heaven's Gate_ , and now that she'd borderline insulted one of the Golden Kingdom's Princes, well. She wasn't in possession of all her faculties, otherwise she would already have voiced her befuddlement at Luna's possession of a—friend, for a lack of a better term.

Although, to be fair, the girl—Ginny—was about as politically savvy as a polar bear at a penguin party; quite a few parallels could be drawn between her stepsister and this red-haired fairy.

"Hermione…Hermione…that's nice." Ron mumbled, as though there was nothing in the world he had needed more than her name. Ginny found it quite embarrassing, and she'd only just met the man.

"You have my sympathies." she told King Harry. At his confusion, she elaborated. "For dealing with him. Though I suppose if you're doing it willingly, there must be something terribly wrong with you, and you have double my condolences."

Ron had turned a darker shade of red, but this time in anger, whereas Hermione had an angrily horrified look on her face.

Ginny rather thought she'd outdone herself. She had broken more rules of etiquette with that one sentence than she had her whole life.

But what made it all worth it was his reply. "And you have mine."

A quirk of his lips and a glance at Luna told her exactly what he meant by that, but instead of feeling offended on Luna's behalf, she just felt like laughing. It was odd, but she knew he didn't mean it rudely, just as she hadn't.

It was quite bizarre, this immediate understanding between them.

Luna decided to voice her impression of the King of the Sky. "You're quite handsome for someone infested so thoroughly with jimdongfers."

"Thank you Lady Luna. I'm sure that will be the most honest compliment I shall receive this entire ball." he said gravely, with a sparkle in his eyes.

For the first time in a long time, it felt, Luna genuinely smiled. "I hope you don't die Harry Potter. It would be a true shame."

And with that pronouncement, she left the Prince of the Golden Kingdom, the King of the Sky, her Fairy Thrall and her stepsister to make of it what they will, while she enjoyed the night, dancing to the rhythm of a song only she could hear.

* * *

Soon thereafter, Hermione was once again swept away by Viktor, prompting Ron's face to turn sour. Harry simply sighed, wondering how two people as awkward as these two could _ever_ manage to fall in love.

As it was, the girl (Lady Luna, he reminded himself) and her proclamation had shaken him. It almost sounded as though she knew of the coming events. But how could she? She was just...just a noble surely! how could she possibly know?

But then, Harry reminded himself, stranger events had occurred. Indeed, their world was built on the foundations of the very same anomalies. Silent in his musings, he missed the beginning of whatever the two red-haired individuals were bickering about.

"Your manners are lacking, _Your High-and-Mightyness!_ " she growled angrily, and if he did say so himself, that spark of anger in her eyes intrigued him despite himself.

"And your manners are non-existent _Fairy_!" Ron almost-yelled. Harry supposed it was time to intervene, preferably _before_ a political scandal was sparked.

"Perhaps we should move out of the way? We _are_ blocking the entrance, and it is awfully rude." he said, moving towards where he'd begun conversing with Lady Hermione.

And what a girl she was; utterly brash, and he supposed that she must have the same verbal disease as Ron did: neither one of them could stop themselves from making utter fools of themselves when in each others' presence.

Lady Luna was strange enough not to contemplate anymore. But this one, Ginny...how did she know Queen Bellatrix? Well enough to call her by her first name, with no title, reflexively?

There was clearly no love lost between them if her words were to be taken at face value. Which, Harry didn't quite understand it but instinct was something he never questioned, he knew he could. There was something very transparent about her, almost naive, and he wondered how she managed to keep that and still look worldly.

It was...very intriguing.

"If you both could possibly cool down, we can discuss this like adults. There is no need for childish bickering." he said, with a warning glance shot at Ron, trying to convey that _his mother was watching_ , and not only that, but that _he was a Prince_. Princes did not go around yelling at lower members of the landed gentry, no matter how beautiful they looked riled up.

...what?

Taking a calming breath, Ron stiffly apologised. Ginny simply looked at Harry with a strange look in her eyes, and then snapped herself out of whatever trance she'd been in. She bowed to both of them deeply, and then stuck her tongue out at Ron almost imperceptibly.

Harry felt like laughing again, and it was so _odd_ that she made him laugh, when he rarely ever did. He felt, to put it mildly, enchanted.

And not in the good way either.

* * *

Luna waved her hands above herself and swayed lightly to a long-forgotten tune. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the jimdongfers floating away from Harry Potter, and she felt quite pleased.

Ginny was truly her mother's most inspired choice for fairy godmother. Her very presence made the sadness-sucking monsters flee.

All was, she thought quite contently, going according to plan.

* * *

 **Merry Boxing Day?**


End file.
